


a song to keep (it gets in deep)

by authoressjean



Series: the changed future [8]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo just doesn't learn, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Heartsong, Humor, Love, M/M, Schmoop, and a hint of desire, asking for suggestions from this lot is probably a poor idea, no seriously, or hurt/comfort I know what is wrong with me, there is absolutely no angst here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24511126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressjean
Summary: Post "leave me your fears," pre "in sickness and health."Bilbo finds himself a bit perplexed about what to do with Thorin's singing: it resounds through their chambers and keeps him...very distracted, for lack of a better phrase. He decides to be smart and ask for some help.Which is, of course, the least helpful thing he could've done.One-shot.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Fíli & Kíli, Bilbo Baggins & Thorin's Company, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Ori (Tolkien), Fili/Derwnyn (OC), Kíli/Legolas
Series: the changed future [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/44514
Comments: 26
Kudos: 162





	a song to keep (it gets in deep)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [umbralillium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umbralillium/gifts).



> So. This happened.
> 
> You can blame (thank) Umbralillium for this one. They gave me the request and my muse has well loved them for many a moon. (No, seriously, what is this now, almost 20 years of Astra adoring every part of you and answering your every whim and request? Seriously, how do you do this?) I love you and I hope this makes you feel a bit better.
> 
> I know the world's in a really sucky place right now. There is always a brighter morning to dawn. I hope this helps YOUR day, too, no matter when or where you read this.

There were very few things that Bilbo considered as absolute necessities. There were the clothing necessities: Erebor was cold in the winter and wearing quilted jackets and fur-lined coats were top of the list. He never went anywhere without a vest – pockets were important – and trousers were, of course, needed for anything he did. (Contrary to what Thorin suggested every morning when the dawn called and they had other places to go.)

Then there were the smaller things, things that fit in pockets or attached themselves otherwise to his person. The pin, for one; his wedding beads and ring, another. His handkerchiefs (multiple because _someone_ always needed one, whether they be child or far too grown to not be carrying one of their own) and his inkwell fit there, both useful in different aspects. He’d been to enough meetings where someone had claimed they couldn’t ratify this or that because they had no ink on hand, and he’d quickly put a stop to it by always carrying some.

His sword Sting was another necessity, one he carried often due to his constant traveling from Dale to Mirkwood and back again. He wished he didn’t need to carry it but recent events and years had proven that one could never be too careful. Thorin both approved and loathed the fact that he carried one on his person. Bilbo also carried a small slingshot, an addition from Dwalin once he’d remembered Bilbo’s proficiency with conkers. Anything to help keep him safe.

The long days to and from Mordor weren’t quite as far behind everyone as they would’ve liked. Or, rather, as far behind as Bilbo would’ve liked. No self-respecting hobbit carried _weapons_ on them like a dwarf or man. They didn’t need to and felt far more unhinged at the mere idea of having one in hand, let alone two.

Bilbo was already unhinged by normal hobbit standards, he supposed. Because having both of them where he could reach made him feel a lot better.

Those were the absolute necessities that he carried with him now. All in all, they weren’t a great deal, but they were steadfast in nature. Getting up was easier with the routine of gathering up the things he needed and heading out into his day.

All of this was to say that he was going to have to come up with a new necessity: ear plugs. Or an ear horn. He wasn’t sure if he needed to hear better or hear nothing at all.

Because Thorin had begun to sing whilst in the washroom, bathing, and it was…distracting.

Of course he’d heard his husband sing numerous times. His deep voice was enough to stir Bilbo’s heart, and stir it to any emotion that Thorin was clearly singing about. Sorrow, joy, love. It was all there in his voice and words, the way his tongue wrapped around the notes before sending them airborne. His ability to match melody was honestly unparalleled, and Bilbo thought his father would’ve called it “pitch perfect” or having a musical ear. He never missed a note, never wavered, his voice as strong and sure as the rest of him.

It wasn’t the singing that was an issue, far from it. Even when Thorin hummed or sang a little, it wasn’t a problem. Bilbo was used to his voice.

It was the bloody washroom that was causing problems.

The washroom was cavernous in nature, tall ceiling that ended with a large gemstone at the top in order to catch the light of the candles and illuminate the room with a soft glow at all times. It also echoed when one wanted it to, but not so much as to catch every swish of the mouth when Bilbo brushed his teeth.

Just enough echo to catch someone singing and amplify it. A lot.

When Thorin sang in the bathroom, it was all Bilbo could hear, resonating through his very bones and catching him completely off guard. He’d nearly lopped his finger off the other day when Thorin had started singing a tune and he’d been in the process of halving fruit for lunch. And never mind when Bilbo was trying to go to sleep and Thorin would be washing up and start _humming_.

It was _doing_ things to him. And he didn’t know whether he wanted Thorin to stop or not.

So thus his conundrum: ear plugs or an ear horn. Did he want to hear more of it, or make it stop?

Another melody began from the washroom just as he finished dressing and he froze. It rose in volume, echoing through the room. It sounded happy in nature, a sweet song, but it was sinking into his very being and leaving him warm from head to toe.

A little _too_ warm.

He grabbed his blade in a hurry, nearly missing the sheath twice, and darted out the door as fast as his feet would take him. Someone was bound to give him ear plugs or ear horn. Or at least a sanctuary where he didn’t have to listen to his husband’s singing which was driving him _mad_.

He went to Balin first. Unfortunately, Balin had his brother and his wedded brother visiting, and so the instant that Balin finally dragged the truth out of him, Bilbo had to sit and listen to Dwalin laughing uproariously for a good minute or four.

Bilbo crossed his arms and scowled at him. “You’re no help at all.”

“Have you tried simply talking to Thorin about it?” Balin asked, at least attempting to be reasonable about it. His lips kept twitching upward though, which only made Bilbo all the more irritated.

“How am I supposed to talk to him about it? He’s the king, he ought to be able to sing if he feels so inclined!”

“Aye, but he’s also your husband,” Balin pointed out. “And he cares a great deal for you. If you explain the problem, I’m sure he’ll take it into consideration.”

“Yeah, consider doin’ it more,” Dwalin said cheerfully. “Nothin’ more fun than rilin’ someone up.”

Ori, at least, raised an eyebrow at his husband at that. “You could be a bit sympathetic. I’m sure there’s things I do that both endear and irritate you.”

That made Dwalin sober a little at least. “Sure. But then I remember that I get to be irritated because you’re mine, and it usually passes.”

A fine pink blush began growing on Ori’s face, but he merely smiled. “Sap,” he accused.

It made Bilbo all the more aware that he was complaining about something ridiculous. “It’s not really that big of a problem,” he admitted. “It’s just…it’s constant these days. And I don’t want to offend him but I can’t concentrate when he sings!”

“Tell him,” Dwain said. “Trust me.”

Oh, that would go swimmingly. He’d either be laughed at or he’d offend Thorin, and neither sounded like something he wanted to do.

Still, Dwalin’s opinion had to count for something. He was Thorin’s kin, his brother in arms, someone that Thorin trusted beyond measure. Someone Bilbo trusted, too. Perhaps he could speak with Thorin about it.

…Or perhaps he could speak to others first.

“You’re just as bad as Fili or Kili,” Dernwyn told him.

Bilbo let out a heavy sigh. “That’s an insult I’m not sure I truly deserve. Honestly. I came to you for help.”

“No, you came with an absurd problem,” Dis countered. She brought over two cups of hot tea and set it down in front of Bilbo, then one for Dernwyn. She then took her seat at the table and crossed her arms. “I can understand a song being too repetitive, or obnoxious when the singer hasn’t a clue, but when the song is simply _distracting_?”

“Fili says my humming distracts him,” Dernwyn said. Her lips turned up at the surprised looks she got. “Which is odd because I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. But my humming won’t let him focus. He says it’s the only thing he can think about whenever I hum.”

“He told you that?” Bilbo asked. Perhaps Dwalin had been right about telling Thorin outright after all. Dernwyn didn’t seem to have taken it poorly. Dernwyn seemed more amused than anything.

She snorted and took a sip of her tea. “Of course he didn’t. I had to pry it out of him, why he seemed to dash out of the room every time I starting humming a tune.”

“Now that sounds more like my son,” Dis muttered, shaking her head.

Dernwyn just smiled. “Eventually he explained that the humming would take up residence in his head and he couldn’t think for anything else. So I promised I’d only hum when he was clearly not doing anything in particular.”

“What you mean is that you do it anytime you want his attention,” Bilbo said dryly.

She shrugged. “I didn’t promise to use my powers for good, now did I?”

“Tell him,” Dis said after shaking her head at Dernwyn. “Trust me.”

He gave a nod that was half a nod, half a shrug, and settled back to drink his tea. He probably really ought to talk to Thorin. It couldn’t be any harder than the evening he’d spilled his heart out and the wounds from the gold sickness had been purged. He could speak to Thorin. He _would_ speak to Thorin.

…After he’d spoken with a few others.

“’Course you shouldn’t tell ‘im.”

Bilbo sputtered around a biscuit. “What?” he choked when he’d managed to get his voice back.

Bofur just kept munching on his own biscuit, not looking the least bit as perplexed as Bilbo felt. “We didn’t have those sorts of acoustics in the Blue Mountains, y’know. Dis and Thorin were known for their singin’ voices. Most dwarves are, but the royal line of Erebor had pipes to be envied.”

Dis could sing? “I didn’t know that,” Bilbo admitted.

From across the kitchen, Bifur made a lot of hand gestures, and Bilbo managed to catch a few. _Tell you_ followed by a solid _no_ , and then a symbol that made him pound his chest. _Pride_. “Well of course he would’ve been too proud to tell me,” Bilbo said, and from Bifur’s pleased look, he’d clearly translated the signs correctly. “But I don’t understand why Dis wouldn’t say anything.”

“Not sung since she lost her husband,” Bombur said. He stopped stirring whatever he was working on and glanced over at Bilbo. “Kept Thorin singin’ through his grief ‘til then.”

“So his singin’s a good thing,” Bofur insisted. “He’d stop if you told him, not wantin’ to offend you.”

“He’s not offending me,” Bilbo exclaimed. “It’s just…echoing everywhere, and I can hardly concentrate! I don’t want it to stop, I really don’t, there’s just…things to do.”

Bofur grinned. “Gets the blood goin’, doesn’t it? It’s why we sing for our courtships.”

As much as he adored Bofur and considered him kin, he absolutely did _not_ want to have that conversation with him. “We’ve already had our courtships,” Bilbo said. His cheeks felt warm and he tried to tell himself he’d faced far worse than Bofur with that gleam in his eye. A dragon and a giant spider and orcs by the buckets.

Bofur’s grin widened and Bilbo took a safe step back. “You’re a menace,” Bilbo muttered, and Bofur outright laughed.

Bifur gestured again with a few grunts. _Tell him_. This time with a solid _yes_ behind it.

Of course. “I know I should talk to him,” Bilbo said. “I do. And I will!” He would!

…But there were still others to talk with.

Dori insisted he speak with Thorin right away. “You’ll both feel better for it, I assure you.”

Nori insisted he _not_ speak with Thorin right away. “See if it stops. He’s probably just enjoying the sound for a bit.”

Oin and Gloin didn’t understand why it was a problem. “Good set of pipes is a sign of strength! You married a good one,” Gloin told him with a wink. Oin offered him an ear horn and Bilbo declined for the time being.

Gimli gave him earplugs from the mining crew and spoke about how it helped him whenever his father attempted to sing. “A belting voice is fine,” he muttered. “Bein’ in tune helps a bit more.”

Legolas and Tauriel were equally lacking in help, though they understood how loud it could be. “Even from several rooms over, I can hear him,” Legolas told him. “I’d wondered how that could be, even with my hearing, so now it makes far more sense.”

Still, the complete lack of anything concrete to do other than speak with Thorin left Bilbo beyond flummoxed. A great deal of everyone spoke about _not_ telling Thorin, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Thorin. His husband, his king, the only one he’d ever love.

What was he supposed to do?

“Well, you look more miserable than an orc on a sunny day.”

“That’s very nice,” Bilbo muttered. “Thanks ever so.” He didn’t lift his head from the table.

He still heard the slide of two chairs coming out and two familiar people settling in before him. A hand rested over his arm, and another hand rested on the opposite shoulder. It wasn’t anything more than a simple gesture but it still helped, and he let loose a sigh.

There was a pause before Kili spoke again. “Everything all right?”

Slowly Bilbo sat up. Both of his nephews looked a fair amount of concerned. “I’m just torn,” he admitted. “That’s all.”

“Ah,” and Fili raised an eyebrow. “Uncle and his singing?”

Bilbo froze. “Please tell me you haven’t heard from a gossip mill because-“

“Relax, Dernwyn told me, and Legolas told Kee,” Fili assured him. “There’s nothing running loose throughout the mountain. None of the Company would dare let that out. Though you’ve clearly spoken with all of them, from the look on your face.”

“Should I tell him or not?” Bilbo said bluntly. It was clear they knew what was going on, so there was no point beating around the bush. And, quite honestly, it was perhaps their opinion that would mean the most. They knew their uncle, loved him, would fight beside him no matter the price. They would know what was best.

So it was a surprise to see them look at each other, then turn back to him and say in unison, “What do _you_ want?”

Bilbo blinked. “What?”

“What do you want, Uncle?” Kili asked. “You’ve asked our opinions but you haven’t said what you want.”

“Because I don’t know what to do!”

“But what do you want out of it, in the end?” Fili asked patiently. “Do you want him to stop? Or do you just want him to understand how it makes you feel?”

He began to respond, then stopped. Both of his nephews sat, patiently waiting, and their kindness and love, still so freely given, made him choke up a bit. “I would’ve thought you’d want what’s best for your uncle,” he said, voice rough.

“We do,” they said in unison, and they smiled. “Both of them,” Fili added.

Bilbo took a deep breath. “I like the sound of his voice. No, I love the sound of his voice. It’s one of the reasons I agreed to go on the initial quest. All of you singing, but his voice above all the others.”

“You should tell him that for sure,” Kili said, and Fili gave a firm nod of agreement. “If nothing else, tell him that.”

“I enjoy hearing his voice,” Bilbo said. “I truly do! It’s just that damnable _washroom_.”

A pair of blinks met him. “Washroom?”

“It echoes!” Bilbo insisted. “And then all I can hear is his voice everywhere! It goes through my bones and I can barely think of anything else!”

Kili looked at Fili. Fili looked at Kili. They began to grin at the same time, and Bilbo began to fear for whoever they were going to aim that grin at. Unfortunately, it was most likely going to be him. “What?” he asked, pursing his lips. Better to get it over with.

They did turn their grins on him, but it was with a clear invitation to join them. “If _that’s_ the problem, then I don’t think you should tell him,” Fili said.

“Absolutely not,” Kili agreed. “We think you ought to _show_ him.”

“This is ridiculous,” Bilbo muttered to himself for the tenth time in probably as many minutes.

The bath part of it wasn’t. He hadn’t even known that bathtubs could be this large until he’d made Erebor his home. Even the man-sized tubs in Laketown had nothing on this monstrosity, made of stone and gold and easily fitting half the Company in it without too much pushing and shoving. And it was entirely theirs, his and Thorin’s.

He glanced up at the ceiling and saw the gem twinkling above him. At the very least, he was going to enjoy a nice bath. At least, until Thorin returned, which was bound to be any moment.

He couldn’t believe he was agreeing to their ridiculous plan. “Utterly ridiculous,” he muttered again. Even his little grumbling echoed a little in the room.

The door to their rooms opened and shut again. “Bilbo? Are you here?”

Bilbo pursed his lips. If he was going to do it, he needed to do it now. Otherwise Thorin was bound to come in if he knew Bilbo was bathing, and that wasn’t going to help anything. He was better to just get it done.

Slowly he licked his lips, cleared his throat softly, and began to sing.

“I’ve a man whom I love with my whole heart

And I’ll never love ‘nother true

He’s the one that I long for, my dear heart

The only one I long to view.

My heartsong sings down to the valley

My heartsong sings high to the trees

My heartsong calls for one single soul, dear heart

And he’s the soul for me.”

The last word had barely left his lips when the washroom door slammed open. Bilbo startled a little, sending little waves splashing.

Thorin stood, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “What’s wrong?” Bilbo asked immediately, beginning to rise. If Thorin had come back to tell him something important and he’d just been sitting in here, _singing_ -

But Thorin merely shook his head. “Nothing, truly, I mean, nothing’s wrong, I simply…” He swallowed hard. “I…did not know you could sing like that.”

Oh. _Oh_. Bilbo managed to contain his smile. “Well, I don’t normally, but the sound in here is rather wonderful. I hope you don’t mind.”

“ _Mind_?” Thorin croaked out. “Not…not exactly. Mind wasn’t the word I could think of.”

“Does it echo?” Bilbo asked as innocently as possible. “All the way out there?”

Thorin gave him an almost crazed look. “Yes, it echoes,” he said at last. “Quite…quite a bit.”

“Would you like me to stop?”

“No,” Thorin said hurriedly. “I don’t, no.” He paused. “No,” he said again, a bit uncertainly.

Bilbo just stretched out with a grin. On this side of it, it was far more enjoyable than being the one who got so flustered. Perhaps Fili and Kili _had_ had a good idea for once.

Thorin finally glanced up and caught his grin, then stopped. He frowned. “Is there something I’m missing?” he asked.

“It gets a bit loud in here, doesn’t it?” Bilbo asked. “And _very_ distracting.”

It didn’t take his husband particularly long to figure it out. “Am I so distracting to you?” he asked.

Bilbo raised both eyebrows. “You have _no_ idea.”

“On the contrary. I’m fairly certain I know exactly how distracting it is now.” Thorin’s lips slowly turned up into a smile. “Though you could have simply told me.”

“How easy was it for you to find the words? To tell me?”

At that, Thorin cocked his head to the side, his wedding braid dangling with the beads on display. “Not easily,” he admitted at last. “But I hope you know that your honesty means more to me than anything else, including my chance to sing in my mountain.”

Something warm flooded through him, his heart almost fit to burst. “I do,” Bilbo said, and he meant it. “How about this: I’ll only sing in here when I know you’re willing to be distracted, and you do the same.”

“It sounds perfect.” Thorin smiled and came over to bend and press a kiss to the top of Bilbo’s head. “I’ll leave you to your bathing,” he said and headed for the door.

“Oh, I’m all done cleaning. I’m simply enjoying the warm water.” The stones helped keep the heat in for a decadent amount of time. He leaned over the side and rested his chin on his arm. “I’m sure after a long day you’d enjoy a warm bath yourself.”

There was heat in Thorin’s eyes when he turned back. “Would you sing for me again?” he asked, and his voice was low.

Bilbo slowly began to smile. “Only if you’ll sing for me.”

The door shut behind Thorin as he began to disrobe.

Apparently the washroom echoed a lot more than just singing. Dis rolled her eyes when she saw them next. Bofur gave them both a thumbs up and a giant grin. Tauriel wouldn’t meet their eyes for a week and Legolas smiled when he saw them, but it was with _very_ pink cheeks.

“Next time, warn us,” Kili complained, and Bilbo just smiled.

It turned out, earplugs and ear horns weren’t necessary items. Just his own voice, ringing through the mountain, calling for his heartsong. And that, that he’d always keep with him, just for Thorin.

**Author's Note:**

> Tune used as a reference is the Irish folk tune "Maggie."


End file.
